end of the
by branewurms
Summary: Utena and Anthy.  Akio's car. An empty space that shouldn't be. Combines elements and characterization from the TV series and the movie and probably makes less sense than either. Written for the kink bingo challenge on dreamwidth.


{end of the}

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That smile on his face.

Her brother sits beside her in the driver's seat, the wind whipping his hair up into a storm. The light from the streetlamps flickers over them in stark yellow bands, on-off, on-off. Her brother's collar is loosened, the air curling beneath it like living fingers to play across the planes of his chest. That smile on his face. That smile.

Anthy closes her eyes.

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Her brother's gone. Nobody's driving; the car just drives. She's in the back seat with Utena, their fingers interlocked on the seat between them.

"Utena-sama," she says, and unties her sash with her free hand. Utena watches her like she's hypnotized.

"Himemiya," says Utena, slowly. "Where are we going?"

"It's a nice night for a drive, isn't it?" says Anthy. Stripes of streetlight flit over her glasses, fitful, glistening like the chrome on the car. "Do you not like it?"

Utena shakes her head. "It's okay."

"The breeze feels good, doesn't it?" says Anthy, pulling the pins holding up her hair out one by one. Dark locks tumble down as she shakes them free.

Utena nods.

"The hum of the engine is soothing, isn't it?" says Anthy.

Utena hesitates a little, pressing her thighs together on the leather seat. She nods again, her face flushing.

Anthy smiles, and there is a yawning nothingness in that smile. The throb of this vehicle does not soothe and never will; Anthy knows this. She feels the leather underneath her own thighs, thrumming like it's alive, still on the back of some animal. Predator or prey? Anthy wonders. Well, in reality, it was surely cut from the back of some complacent cow, standing around waiting to be lead to slaughter. Which it _feels _like, Anthy's not so sure. Something fleet-footed, at least. Fleet-footed and quivering. Eager.

Anthy slips her glasses off, sits them down in the seat beside her. Her eyes are only slightly less reflective; this is by design.

"Utena-sama," she says again, and lets go of Utena's hand and pulls off her blouse. It flutters away into the night, a white bird. The wind cups her small breasts with its cool fingers, whistles through the empty space in her chest. A slash of darkness over her ribs. The rows of streetlamps flicker, on-off, on-off, illuminating the nothing within.

Utena stares, horrified. "Himemiya..."

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He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. It's there in the white of his teeth. Of course, she's disgusted. Of course, she won't understand. She doesn't know you. She doesn't want to know you, not the real you.

I understand.

I know you.

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It's fringed with miniature roses.

The gaping hole goes all the way through, and Utena can see straight to the other side of Anthy's body. The scent rises, sweetly fragrant rose, cloying over the faintest hint of decay beneath. A wound that doesn't heal festers, after all. The smell envelops the back seat; the breeze can't lift it.

She waits for the expression of mingled desire and revulsion to transform Utena's face. Instead, Utena blurts foolishly: "Doesn't - doesn't that hurt?"

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He doesn't say anything. His lips press together in a thoughtful frown.

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Utena's eyes narrow at Anthy's delicate laughter, and her cheeks, which had gone pale at the sight of the hole in Anthy's chest, flare pink again. Angry, probably, or just embarrassed.

Anthy presses her hand against her mouth, stilling herself. "My apologies, Utena-sama," says Anthy, although it is difficult not to laugh through the words. "It's only that no one has ever asked that before." She tilts her head. "I'm not sure if it hurts. It used to hurt, but I can't feel it any more. Does it matter?"

"Does it... Of course it matters!" Utena's fingers are trembling.

"Well," Anthy says. "Forgive me for being unable to answer your question, then."

"But," Utena stammers. "But - I don't understand. Your heart. _Where is your heart?_"

"A heart..." Anthy folds her hands in her lap, prim even with her hair flying free and her breasts bared to the night. "The Rose Bride doesn't need such a thing."

Utena's face screws up, and Anthy is sure now, she's angry. Well, that's also within the bounds of what's expected; Utena does not like her, doesn't like what she represents. For a long time Utena says nothing, and Anthy watches her as the anger melts from her, something else filling her up in its place. Determination, Anthy realizes. The clothes which suit her best.

Utena turns to her and leans down to her chest. That part is expected, was expected from the beginning; what's not expected is her expression. Different from the others. Not hazed over with hunger or lust, or even just plain fascination. Utena's eyes are serious and clear, staring straight up at Anthy's as she lays a gentle kiss along the edge of the wound, just above Anthy's breast.

Unexpectedly, Anthy's breath hitches, and she feels a phantom pain, a ringing ache where her heart isn't.

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He doesn't say anything, because he's not there. The steering wheel moves under his hands; the seat curves under his weight; she can smell the musky scent of him; but he's not there.

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A thorn catches as Utena rises, tears into her bottom lip. Utena flinches - a pinprick of blood. Impulsively, Anthy darts forward, licks the drop of red off with a little flick of her tongue. Utena goes still beneath her mouth, stiffening in surprise, but she doesn't pull away.

The roar of the engine balloons outward, surrounds them in a bubble of silence. The moment lingers, stretches, their lips brushing together, barely moving. Then it breaks, sound filling them back up again, as Utena pushes Anthy back a little so that she can look at her.

"Himemiya," Utena says solemnly, her hand firm on Anthy's shoulder. "Everyone needs a heart."

It sounds silly and Anthy wants to giggle, but Utena's eyes don't let her.

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She opens her eyes again. Looks around, vaguely surprised. She is alone in the passenger seat of the car. Her brother's car. Parked and unmoving in the courtyard where it always sits. It is daylight. Morning.

Her brother's car could never take her anywhere, could it? It doesn't even run anymore. There isn't even a key.

She opens the door and steps out, smoothing down her skirt. Her feet turn her towards Utena.


End file.
